


man bun

by loafers



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: M/M, improper use of hair accessories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-11
Updated: 2015-04-11
Packaged: 2018-03-22 10:11:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3725005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loafers/pseuds/loafers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>it's easy to keep calum occupied on the bus but it's hard for ashton to accept how much exactly he enjoys it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	man bun

**Author's Note:**

> contains orgasm denial and clumsy, not properly negotiated bondage, and i mean probably hints of cbt and internalised gay shame but nothing too intense. sorry calum's so kinky \o/

Once the initial novelty wears off, bus time is pretty boring. It’s tense too, the four of them cooped up so close for so long. There’s only so many ways to relieve the tension. Ashton used to try and spend it headphoned and holed up in his bunk to keep out of any boredom borne bus shenanigans the others might come up with, but he quickly discovered that the other three are most definitely worse off when left to their own devices.

Calum’s the worst for it. Undistracted, Michael can easily spend whole days occupied with his laptop, and Luke’s content to snuggle beside him like a lapdog so long as Calum doesn’t draw him into any hijinks. So the key to maintaining peaceful order during long stretches of bus time is keeping Calum busy. 

Luckily, it didn’t take Ashton long to figure out exactly how to do so. 

Jerking off is pretty standard fare as far as ways to pass the time go that’ve been concocted by four pretty standard teenage boys (though Ashton can’t help but focus on the fact that he’s an adult, he’s twenty, he’s old enough to know better than this). After each break it’s always the same, everyone agrees - _this_ time there will be _no_ shitting and _no_ wanking on the bus - and the rules are set in stone until night falls and/or nature calls and then they’re once again reduced to manfully ignoring each other’s awkward and embarrassing particulars. 

There _should_ be an additional rule about nudity on the bus, though it’d be for Calum’s benefit only, and probably the way that Calum is aggressively naked isn’t something that could be curbed by one of their weakly enforced rules. It’s just too much, too all the time. It’s basically a fact of life. Like, Michael’s gonna jerk off in his bunk when he thinks you’re asleep, Luke’s farts smell like something’s crawled up his ass and died, and Calum’s gunna be naked. _All_ the time. He just is. 

So, Ashton deals with it. 

“Ugh, fuck,” Calum gasps hoarsely before Ashton can get his hand clamped over his mouth. 

“Shut up,” he hisses against Calum’s ear and Calum whimpers, nodding, body shuddering still, slumping back against Ashton. 

It’s not like Ashton’s expecting it to be kept secret but it’d still be fucking awkward for Luke or Michael to hear and get all curious, come wandering into the back lounge and find them like this; Calum naked, seated between Ashton’s thighs on the couch, his cock hard and red and slippery wet, illuminated as if by spotlight in flashes as the bus passes under bright highway street lights. 

It’s really late and Ashton totally made sure they were asleep before he pulled Calum into his lap but anything’s possible _except_ being able to explain why, exactly, Ashton likes this so much. 

He takes his hand from Calum’s mouth and drags it down his chest, pinches his nipple which just makes Calum’s breath hitch squeakily again. He smiles and Calum breathes out long and unsteady. 

“Sorry, fuck,” Calum whispers, his head turned so Ashton’s nose brushes against his cheekbone. Ashton nods and slides both his hands back down Calum’s body, stroking down the taut muscle of his stomach, pressing each fingertip into his smooth skin. Calum squirms, his hands flexing, bound and caught behind his back by one of Ashton’s old bandanas, wedged between them against Ashton’s middle. His fingers catch restlessly at Ashton’s belt buckle, and Ashton’s hyper aware of it, of what it makes him want, of his cock, achingly hard in his jeans. 

To distract himself, Ashton wraps his hand around Calum’s cock again and strokes firm and slow, watching closely the way Calum bites his lip, listens to the whine build in his throat only to be swallowed, kept there. Ashton presses his closed mouth to Calum’s warm, bare shoulder and watches himself touch him, his long fingers wrapped around Calum’s pretty dick, the jumping of Calum’s toned belly as he tries and fails to keep his hips still; Ashton can tell he’s only barely managing to resist the urge to fuck his cock up into his fist, desperate for more, for Ashton to give him enough to get him over the edge. 

Ashton’s not keeping time but Calum’s been like this for ages now. It’s surprising he still hasn’t come, though Ashton’s not giving him much to work with, and the snag free hair tie Calum yanked from Ashton’s hair that’s now caught tight around his bare cock and balls means he’s just getting harder and harder. 

Ashton’s just glad he bought a twenty pack because there’s no way he’s using it to secure his fashion forward man bun ever again. 

Calum’s dick is so slick with lube and precome that not only is Ashton’s hair tie totally gross now, but the noise his fist makes slipping up and down the length of Calum’s cock is kind of ridiculous. And loud. The sliding door between the bunks and the lounge is shut, but still. Probably it just seems louder because of how fucking obscene and obvious the sound is - schlick, schlick, schlick - Ashton feels like they’re broadcasting what they’re doing to the entire fucking world, let alone Michael and Luke asleep - still, hopefully - in their bunks on the other side of the door. 

Calum whimpers and his hand curls into a tight fist against Ashton’s belly and Ash knows to stop, that he’s getting close. He pulls his hand up and off the slippery head of Calum’s cock, and Calum sags again, panting, his head lolling back on Ashton’s shoulder. After this he’ll be out until they hit the next stop, hopefully. 

Ashton rubs his hands down Calum’s slim thighs, wiping his hands clean just as excuse to touch, map them with the spread of his fingers, his thumbs drawing down the insides, not intending to make Calum spread wider but it’s hot when he does. Calum waits, still and patient, as Ashton strokes his skin, hands sliding back up between his thighs, around the base of his cock and his balls, swollen tight, the black elastic digging in deep where it keeps them caught. It’s kind of scary looking, how red he is, how hard. 

“Hurt much?” Ashton asks against Calum’s shoulder, fingers resting on the hair tie, ready to remove it. Calum only has to say the word. This was Calum’s idea, and as much as Ashton likes him like this; quiet, obedient, and helpless - Calum’s the one who’s really in charge. 

Calum shakes his head. “Yeah, but I like it,” he’s smiling, and it makes Ashton huff out a soft laugh, pet his stomach. 

“You’re a freak, Hood,” Ashton mumbles, embarrassed by how fond he sounds. He strokes his fingers over the tight, hot skin of Calum’s balls, allowing his hand to drag up the length of Calum’s cock, circles his palm over the head and enjoys the way Calum’s breath punches out of him, his body jerking. 

Ashton pinches the head of Calum’s cock between thumb and forefinger, rubbing just below, slick and slight. Calum’s whole body shudders and he keens, softly, twisting up, straining helplessly. Ashton has to get his other hand on his belly and pull him back down, and Calum’s hips are jerking with so much need that Ashton really has to hold him, wrap his whole forearm across his middle to pin him in place. He hooks his chin over Calum’s shoulder too, digging in. Calum’s panting loudly, his foot kicking up and thudding back down on the floor. It’s like he’s being tortured, Ashton thinks. 

“Shit, close,” Calum grits out, body rocking up so strong Ashton has to clamp down on his hold with all he’s got, letting Cal’s cock go to catch him with both hands. 

“If you can’t keep still, you can’t come,” Ashton says. 

Calum whimpers and slowly falls lax again in Ashton’s arms. “Fuck, sorry,” he says, voice scraping out of his throat in a dry whisper. 

“And you need to keep quiet,” Ash reminds him. Calum nods, closing his mouth tight. 

“Good, thank you,” he mumbles, sitting up and hauling Calum back up the couch, secure between his thighs. “Don’t wanna have to gag you,” Ashton mumbles, grinning when Calum’s body twitches with the hitch of his hips, his cock jerking between his legs. He moans behind his lips pressed tight together and it’s just as loud as if he opened his mouth. 

Calum’s so easy to read. A gag is something for next time, then. Ashton wonders exactly where this thing will end up. It keeps escalating, and more worryingly, Ashton just allows it. 

Calum wiggles his ass in Ashton’s lap to draw him back, and Ashton shakes his head, refocusing. It’s not time for brooding, now. Later, once Calum’s quiet and sated and exhausted in his bunk. Ashton’s all too aware of how messed up it is that he can justify this by sorting it into the same category as his big-brother-oldest-in-the-band responsibility for the other three, as if his hands on Calum like this is for the good of the band. 

Calum’s grinding back into Ashton’s crotch restlessly now, pointedly, impatiently, and _that_ is what allows Ashton to keep his distance from this. His cock is hard and Calum’s rubbing his ass against it, basically, but Ashton’s fully dressed, and Ashton won’t make himself come until much later, alone, thinking stubbornly of Mila Kunis. 

Calum’s ass against his dick, no matter how good it feels, is not what this is about. Can’t be. 

Calum’s hands fumble at Ashton’s belt buckle again and a wave of heat washes over Ashton, fuzzing his brain for a hot second. “Stop,” he growls, shaking his head free of the heat, “don’t do that.” He snaps his teeth at Calum’s shoulder in reprimand but it just makes Calum whimper and tip his head, bare his throat. 

Ashton licks his lips, staring at the skin of Calum’s throat. His control is slipping. He grabs Calum’s cock tight and sudden and it shifts everything back into place, Calum’s thighs jerking and his hips arching up. His head lolls back onto Ashton’s shoulder, his mouth falling open, panting. 

Ashton twists his fist up and down Calum’s slick cock, his other hand squeezing at his hip keeping him pinned in place. Ashton keeps the pace slow, the pressure steady on the whole length of Calum’s cock, base to tip. Calum shudders and he snaps his mouth shut, whimpers behind his lips. 

Ashton dips his mouth to Calum’s ear. “You wanna come?” he asks, low and close. 

Calum squeezes his eyes shut tight and nods eagerly. Ashton speeds up his stroke just slightly, building quicker as Calum’s hips shift helplessly into it, the muscle of his thighs and stomach tense and straining to keep still. 

“Say please,” Ashton tells him, slipping his free hand down to press up under Calum’s balls as he jerks him off, getting quicker. His fingers are close to Calum’s asshole and it’s making Calum’s breath hitch but Ashton wouldn’t, he won’t touch him there, can’t touch him like that. Can he? 

The pleas tumble out of Calum’s mouth soft and breathless, “please please please, Ash, fuck, please,” he whines, voice so sweetly squeaky, desperate. “Please, fuck, fuck me, please.” 

A hot shock rocks through Ashton’s gut, low and dangerous. He’s suddenly so keenly aware that it’s what he wants, it’s where this will end up. Ashton yanks Calum back into the cradle of his hips before he can think better of it, his cock hot and hard under his jeans and Cal’s ass jammed right back against it. 

“Fuck, please,” Calum gasps, chest hitching and cock jerking. 

“Shut up,” Ashton says, dark and desperate, jerking Calum’s cock hard and quick, wanting it to be over now, now that he can’t stop the way he’s jamming his hips forward to grind his dick against Calum. It feels so good that Ashton isn’t prepared when Calum tenses up, back arching away from Ash and face turned in to bite at his own shoulder as he shoots his load up his chest in three hard pulses. 

Ashton lets him go, panting, going still, trying to keep his hands from getting messy, watching the stripes of Calum’s come shine bright white against the tan skin of his quivering tummy. His hands fall onto the couch beside his thighs. He’s not touching Calum now except for the way he’s draped back against him, heavy and lax. 

They’re still, breathing, until Calum moves, squirming until his hands come free from their loose bounds, and then hissing as he picks the elastic from around his cock. He stretches and carefully untwists it from around his balls, and then cups himself gently, rubbing where Ashton imagines it’s really fucking sore, now. With his other hand, he holds up Ashton’s hair tie in offer. 

Ashton can’t help laughing, short and breathless. “Keep it,” he says, voice hollow. His cock feels less demanding now, his control wound back tight where it belongs, now that Calum’s not making him lose total sense of who he is, and what is right. He’s still hard though, and it feels strange now, to have Calum’s body so close against his own, too intimate. 

Calum stretches, and then follows the movement to stand, though groans and doubles over as soon as he’s on his feet, holding out his hand to brace himself on Ashton’s knee for a moment before straightening up. “Jesus,” he mutters, patting his cock. It looks bad, hanging heavy between his legs, still mostly hard, and red. Ashton looks away from it, and then from meeting Calum’s eyes. 

“Thanks bro,” Calum says hoarsely, hesitating. He draws his hand away from Ashton’s knee and Ashton shifts in his seat, closing the space where Calum sat between his thighs. 

“Yep,” Ashton nods and then smiles, and forces himself to look at Calum. 

Calum looks steadily back at him. “Night then,” he says, like he wants to say more. 

Ashton forces himself not to get up and follow when Calum slips through the door to the bunks. He doesn’t pull it shut after himself and Ashton doesn’t think for a moment it’s an invitation. 

He listens to the sink running and waits until he hears Calum climb up into his bunk and pull the curtain shut before he allows himself to unbuckle his belt. He tells himself _Mila Kunis_ but all he sees is Calum.


End file.
